House of Cards
by Inperialex
Summary: Harleen Quinzel was simply a psychology major at Gotham University, just trying to create a life for herself in this crazy city. But what happens when she gets hired at Arkham Asylum and becomes intrigued by a certain inquisitive patient of hers? Will she conceal the other side of her or will she allow it to be unleashed?


Harleen Quinzel had never expected to find herself inside of Arkham Asylum, and she especially never expected herself to become a psychiatrist for the inmates that were held inside. Yet, here she was, standing in in a rather dull room wearing her black blouse and red framed glasses while holding a small stack of paperwork with multiple inmate's information on it.

The room she was placed in was small and looked as though it was pulled out of a scene in a movie. It had a long couch for the patients to lay on and a rather beaten up chair that was meant for her. Part of her wondered how long this room has been in the asylum and what exactly happened to their last psychiatrist.

Plopping down on the chair's fraying cushions, Harleen flipped through her paperwork to find out who her patients would be that day. She inhaled sharply as she read the first name on her list. Inmate D-171: Edward E. Nygma.

The name was almost too familiar to her. He had caused quite the chatter back at the GCPD. Killing multiple people including his own girlfriend Kristen Kringle, framing the famous detective Jim Gordon for the murder of Theo Galavan, and possibly many more undocumented crimes. Yes, Nygma would certainly be one of her more interesting patients.

A part of Harleen couldn't help but admire his crimes. One would have to be of high intelligence in order to get away with framing a detective, and not to mention the fact that he managed to hide the murder of Kristen Kringle for so long. She wondered what his motive was behind the murder and his strange yet admirable love for riddles. Perhaps he wasn't so insane, but more misunderstood. She knew what it was like to have such a high intellect that no one else seems to understand you.

'He's pretty cute, isn't he?' she thought to herself as she glanced at the small photo on his file. She shook the thought away. These thoughts were ones that didn't exactly belong to her. They belonged to a different side of her that she kept from the world. Just as these thoughts began to take over her inner monologue, she was relieved to hear footsteps in the hallway outside.

She glanced up from her papers as the big metal door creaked open. Two large guards stepped inside along with a tall, lanky man who was wearing the usual black and white striped inmate uniform. He had glasses and dark curly hair. Anyone could tell from the darkness under his eyes that he hadn't slept in days, but this did not prevent him from keeping a rather mischievous grin on his face.

"Your first inmate, Ms. Quinzel," one of the guards nodded to her. She nodded back, then the two stepped outside and stood close to the door. Help was now just a scream away.

"Hello, Mister Nygma," Harleen said to the man as he sat down on the couch. She wondered if it would be too short for him to lay down on. He was so tall it looked as though his feet would hang off the end. Still, he crossed his legs and sat with his chin resting on his hands as though she was the most interesting thing he had seen all year. "I am Harleen Quin—"

"I know who you are," he said before she could finish her thought. "Harleen Quinzel, twenty-three years old. You attend Gotham University as a psychology major. You have a part time job at the GCPD and they have sent you here to become the psychiatrist since our last one…disappeared."

Harleen raised an eyebrow, both impressed curious at his amount of information on her. How exactly did he know all of this? His file _did_ mention that he had a tendency to dig through other people's files, but she wondered how he could have managed to get ahold of hers.

"That is correct, Mister Nygma. I must say I'm quite impressed you know so much about me," she said, then put his file onto the small desk next to her chair. "Now let's see how much I know about you." This caused Edward to raise an eyebrow. "Your name is Edward E. Nygma, you're twenty-six years old. You had a job at the GCPD before I did, until you murdered the record keeper Kristen Kringle. You also framed detective Jim Gordon for the murder of Theo Galavan. Am I correct?"

Edward slowly sat back and smiled. "That is correct, Ms. Quinzel," he said. "But I assure you that once I'm out of here I'll be doing much more impressive things rather than just simple murder. And you will not stop me."

"What makes you so sure, Mister Nygma?" Harleen asked, scribbling down a note about his ego. "Can I call you Edward?"

"No. No one can call me Edward."

"Alright. Can I call you Eddie?"

Edward pondered the question for a moment.

"I'll let you call me Harley if I can call you Eddie."

Edward smirked. "I suppose that will suffice," he said finally. "And the thing that makes me so sure, _Harley_ , is the fact that you're just like me."

Harley stopped writing the moment he said that, putting down her pencil and raising an eyebrow at him. She wanted to ask what exactly he meant. She wanted to know what he saw inside of her. He couldn't possibly see the side of her she so desperately tries to hide. The side of her that wants to be free.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean, Mister Nygma," she said finally.

"I have billions of eyes, yet I live in darkness. I have millions of ears yet only four lobes. I have no muscle, yet I rule two hemispheres. What am I?" Eddie asked one of his famous riddles and Harley assumed it was an answer to her question.

"The human brain," she answered quickly, finding the riddle rather easy. "Are you…are you saying there's something wrong with my brain?"

"Not necessarily," Eddie answered. "I'm saying your mind is your own prison. There's a side of you just aching to be released. A crazier, more clever side. I was just like you once. I was trapped inside of my own head. Take it from me, it's better to release it. You'll finally be free."

"Eddie, I assure you my mind is not a mental prison," Harley said, trying not to show any nervousness in her tone. Her hand had begun to shake so she did her best to steady it by fiddling with a lock of her blonde hair. "If it was, I think I'd know. I'm a psychologist after all."

"Oh please, you're just as sane as the rest of the inmates in this hell hole," Edward said with a sudden gruffness in his voice. "I can see it in those sapphire eyes of yours which, if I may, are quite dazzling."

Harley felt blood rush to her cheeks as she racked her brain for words. She felt speechless. Not only had he thrown her off by complimenting her but he also managed to figure out the entirety of her 'other side' just by one simple meeting. But she could never allow him to know that. It would be completely unprofessional.

"These thoughts are all very… _interesting_ , Eddie. But do you think perhaps you're projecting yourself onto the way you see me?" she asked.

Edward pondered for another moment. "Perhaps I am, but only because I see myself in you."

Harleen and Edward snapped out of their conversation when the big metal door leading to the hallway once again creaked open. The guard informed them at Eddie's time was up and it was time for Harley to see her next patient.

"Will I see you again?" Eddie asked.

"Yes, we have an appointment next week," Harley said simply, causing Eddie to smile as he stood from the couch.

"Well I will see you then. Stay crazy," he winked as he whispered the last comment.

Before he headed out the door, Harley called for him. She wanted to badly to ask how he had managed to learn to control his other side. She wanted to know how he felt now that he was free. Instead, all that came out was a simple "Get some rest" and Edward nodded as he was escorted into the hallway and Harley greeted her next patient.


End file.
